


Therapy

by InappropriateShoes



Category: Homeland
Genre: Not Serious, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InappropriateShoes/pseuds/InappropriateShoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie and Quinn fight all of the time and Saul has had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to the naked Quinn prompt - sort of. It takes a while for Q to get naked, but it does eventually happen in this silly fanfic (my first one). There are a few nods to things I've read in other fanfics as I've poured through them over the past few weeks.

This is bullshit!" They yelled in unison.

"Something you agree on. See, she's helped already," Saul responded, not phased in the slightest. "Make no mistake, you ARE doing this, and you WILL cooperate AND participate. That's an order. I cannot have two of my top people constantly bickering and at odds with each other any more. Tomorrow you're going to report to Dr. Byatt at oh-eight hundred sharp, and you're not leaving until you work out your issues."

"But Saul," Carrie pleaded, "tomorrow is Saturday. I have plans - actual plans. And everyone knows Dr. Bat-Shit-Crazy is a fucking weir..."

"Dr. Helen Byatt," Saul interrupted, "has been with the agency for years, and has clearance to work with you both, so consider your plans cancelled for the rest of the weekend. It's obvious that you are beyond a mere session and need an intensive retreat. Your relationship needs serious help. You've shunned all of the normal team building exercises, so now you're both at the mercy of Dr. Byatt for the next two days, and I've instructed her to think outside the box."

"What the hell does that mean?" Quinn fumed, alarm bells going off. He'd been on the receiving end of Dr. Bat-Shit-Crazy's therapy sessions before, and he didn't like the sound of her "thinking outside of the box" one bit. In fact, he could feel the panic rising inside of him. Just the thought of joint counseling with Carrie at the hands of the weird CIA therapist was enough to cause him to break out into a cold sweat.

"I have no idea, and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. But you'll find out tomorrow, won't you. And Carrie, remind me that you need sensitivity training next month." And with that, Saul abruptly turned on his heel and walked away, oblivious to the daggers Carrie and Quinn threw at his back with their hateful stares. 

"FUCK!" Again in unison.

\-----

He held out a coffee to her as a way of greeting when she opened her front door the next morning at 7:30 on the dot. 

"Well aren't you Mr. Punctual. An Eager Little Beaver," she said wryly as she snatched the coffee out of his hand.

"Are you seriously going to start in on me right now? I brought you coffee."

"You drove through a Starbucks. Big fucking whoop."

"Jesus, Carrie. You are the hardest person to be nice to."

"Save it for the shrink," she smiled sweetly - clearly she was just fucking with him - and breezed past him on her way to the government issued black SUV.

Quinn shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile of their own. Sassy Carrie. He liked Sassy Carrie. And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the weekend. Now how weird was that.

\-----

The feeling didn't last.

"What?" Quinn thought he surely must have heard wrong. "You want us to do what?"

"Strip down naked. Both of you." Dr. Byatt's tone of voice seemed to imply she would have liked to have added a bitchy, "Did I stutter?" 

"Naked. Us. Both of us. Naked." Carrie this time. Just as stunned. "Wait. Are we naaaaaaked or are we neeeeeekkid?" She asked, drawing out the vowel sounds in the different pronunciations.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Carrie? There's no fucking difference."

Carrie turned to Quinn. "Yes there is, if you're naked, you just don't have clothes on, but if you're nekkid, then you know, you're up to stuff. Bow-chicky-wow-wow kinda stuff."

There is a long pregnant pause as both Quinn and Dr. Helen Byatt stared at Carrie, mouths agape. 

Dr. Byatt finally continued, "Aaaaaanyway," sarcastically drawing out the vowel just as Carrie had. "Director Berenson advised me to think outside the box - that you are unusual people, both stubborn and slow to trust. In the late 1960's there was a psychotherapist named Paul Bindrim who believed that intentionally introducing nudity into group therapy was a way to accelerate the process of developing mutual trust and emotional openness. So please, disrobe and hand me your clothes."

"Fuck me." Quinn.

Carrie and Quinn stared at each other, each trying to gauge what the other was thinking. Carrie was thinking that Quinn could kill this crazy bitch and they could go have breakfast, but knew he'd never go for it. So she sighed, resigned. "Fine. Quinn, turn around."

Quinn turned around just as Carrie pulled her shirt over her head. As he heard more rustling of clothes, he suddenly felt he was losing round one of the therapy game so he too tugged his t-shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor where Byatt immediately scooped it up. And so it went until he was standing, back-to-back with Carrie in the middle of the nondescript office suite, butt naked.

"Wonderful start." Dr. Byatt said. "Ok. In the kitchen there is a binder with an outline of activities, and a workbook for each of you. There is also food. I will call every 4 hours to check on your progress throughout the day, with the last call at 8pm tonight. I'll then check in again tomorrow morning at 8am." And with that, Dr. Byatt walked out, carrying both Carrie's and Quinn's clothing and cell phones. 

"What the hell?" Quinn ran to the door, but it was locked. "That crazy woman locked us in here together for the weekend... naked!

"I should have seen this coming. This was her play all along." Carrie started pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

"What are you muttering about?" Quinn called over his shoulder, his back (and butt) still facing Carrie.

"Dr. Bat-Shit is getting back at me. For years I played her during my psych evals - fed her what she needed to hear, and hid my bipolar disorder from her. When my condition came out, she looked bad. She must have been humiliated."

"No way. You're paranoi..." Quinn let the word die on his lips. Of course she was right. Carrie and her goddamn intuition was always right. "What do we do?"

Carrie's voice suddenly became loud and exaggerated, as if she were on stage in a high school play, "Why we develop mutual trust and emotional openness, of course." Carried moved silently to where Quinn stood, got on her tip toes and leaned into him to whisper into his ear, "This place probably has ears, and maybe eyes on, too. I don't know what her end game is, but we're going to fucking rock this naked therapy. She can't take me down with this bullshit headgame."

Quinn couldn't focus on what Carrie was saying. Her arm resting on his shoulder, her breasts lightly brushing against his arm, and her whispers about nakedness were almost too much for him. He intensely focused on what it would be like to bang his hand with a hammer - repeatedly. 

Satisfied that she understood what was going on, and had a plan of action, Carrie suddenly looked around, almost as if she were seeing their uncomfortable situation for the first time. "Shit, Quinn," she said shyly as she quickly scurried to again stand back-to-back (butt-to-butt) with him, "we don't have any clothes on."

"Duh. I thought you were OK with all of this."

"That was just bravado for Bat-Shit's benefit. Plus, I didn't know she'd leave us here alone."

"Well, Agent Mathison, how do you propose we proceed?"

"Well... we're both just people..." she reasoned.

"Uh huh..."

"...who are naked." she finished.

"And...?"

"And nothing. We just proceed as normal. Well, not 'as normal' because we're not supposed to fight anymore. But we just forget about the no clothes thing."

"We just forget about it."

"Yeah, just forget about it. Besides, I've seen you naked before, remember? And I assure you, I don't have anything extra you haven't see before. No third nipple or freaky piercings."

"And we're naaaaaaked, right? We're definitely not neeeeeekkid?"

"Quinn!" laughed Carrie, grateful to him for lightening the mood.

"OK, OK. Just teasing. I'm not wild about the idea of making a CIA porn video for Bat-Shit either. So you want to turn around on the count of three? Just do it and get it out of the way?"

"What, you mean straight out? Just turn around and boom! take in the view?"

"Too bold?"

"Carrie hesitates for just a moment. "Screw it. Bat-Shit is planning something. We don't have a lot of time to tip toe around each other. We need to get started on those workbooks."

"OK. One, two..."

"Wait wait!" Carrie interrupted Quinn, her voice slightly panicked. "Whatever you do, please don't laugh. OK, Quinn?"

"I assure you, the last thing I feel like doing right now is laughing. Same goes for you - no laughing."

"As if that could happen." Carrie muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"What?"

"Oh my god, Carrie. Can we just get this over with?"

"Ok ok. One..."

"Two..."

Carrie and Quinn spun around, and both took in the view. 

Boom. 

After a long while, Quinn finally spoke. Tilting his head to the side he said, "I don't know, a third nipple would look really good on you."

And with that, they both laughed. Not at each other, but with each other. Naked therapy. Who knew.


	2. Self Reflection and Giggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie may want to rock naked therapy, but old habits are hard to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The silliness continues.
> 
> See the giggling reference regarding CNN's Anderson Cooper here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MumI6KovUk (giggling commences at about the 2:20 mark).

Carrie was about half way through her Self Reflection worksheet when she heard a ... what would you call that...a giggle? from across the table. Peter Quinn giggling? Will wonders ever cease?

"Hey, Anderson Cooper, what's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about the irony of you calling me an eager little beaver this morning, and now, here you are."

"So?"

"So it's funny!" He was giggling outright now.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Through the giggles, he choked out, "Eager little BEAVER," stressing the last word. His giggles now punctuated with table slaps.

Her innocent "why is that funny" just made him lose it more.

"Quinn. STOP it. WHY is that so funny?" She demanded again, more forcefully.

Finally he managed, "You're kidding, right?" The look on her face informed him that she was not kidding, so he explained, trying to keep a straight face, "You know, 'beaver' is slang for... lady parts." He waved his hand around to indicate he was referring to her parts currently obscured by the table. "You called ME a beaver this morning, and here YOU are, naked for the entire weekend. I mean, talk about foreshadowing! I'm impressed!"

Carrie maintained the what the fuck look on her face. "Since when is the word 'beaver' a substitute for vagina? And since when do you say 'lady parts'?"

"Oh my god, Carrie. Since always."

"You've always used the words 'lady parts' to refer to a woman's vagina?"

"No, since always the word 'beaver' has referred to a vagina."

"How do you figure? It makes no sense!" 

"I don't figure at all. I didn't make it up!" Quinn's amusement was quickly fading and replaced with the ever-present exasperation he felt when he talked to Carrie for more than two minutes.

Louder Carrie says, "Are you getting this, Bat Shit? Did you know that beaver was slang for a woman's vagina?!"

This conversation was now beyond ridiculous. Quinn inhaled deeply to control himself, but couldn't help the dramatic eye roll. "Never mind. Just drop it."

They fell silent again. Nothing but the sound of Byatt's desk clock and the scribbling of Carrie's pen could be heard in the room.

"Hey, Quinn." Carrie said after a while.

"What?" Wary.

Carrie rustled her Self Reflection worksheet as she picked it up and read from it. "Under number five: Use up to ten words to describe how your coworkers perceive you..." She paused.

"Yeah?" Quinn prompted impatiently.

"You should write down gullible."

Goddamn Sassy Carrie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, y'all asked me to write more.
> 
> To see a recap of Anderson Cooper and a whole bunch of other giggling not to be missed, go to https://youtu.be/SabNnJGw6xo. You won't regret it!

**Author's Note:**

> Many frozen foods have been served for dinner in my house after I discovered this fandom. Whew, I was pretty far down the fucking rabbit hole! Thanks to all who post!


End file.
